


To be or Not to be (The Devil)

by xxcalibre



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Fast Pace, Father/Son Incest, M/M, Multi, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-04-23 00:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22227751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxcalibre/pseuds/xxcalibre
Summary: “Watch over Nero,” begged his demon.Because you see, Nero's 3:1 Human to Demon was no longer that perfect ratio.
Relationships: Dante/Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante/Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 97





	1. CHAPTER ONE

**Author's Note:**

>   
_Actually, I have never played this game._

  
  


“What the fuck do you mean more Devil than _ usual_?”

“I ought to _ wash _ that mouth, Dante.”

The twins were at it _ again_.

Nero’s DT was not having any of it.

In that Demonic form, the Demon snorted and rolled his eyes in a rather pissed off manner. His hair was tied into a messy bun, and his arms were folded across his chest. **Nero has no knowledge of this, so I would rather the both of you to listen to what I have to say. ** The youngest Demon of the Sparda sat on Dante’s desk as the twins remained standing, proving just _ who _ was Boss in that building—or… who were. **I am only summoned when Nero ** ** _needs_****. Unlike the both of you who just summon your Demons like nothing. ** Vergil’s eyes started to gleam it seemed he already could tell what Nero’s Demon had to say. ** He took on a job—your job, Dante—that proved to be too traumatic for his human side, but he refused to summon me. Until he did. Truth be told, even I did not realise I was being summoned. ** Nero’s Demon flexed his fingers, squeezing his digits to form a tight fist. **When he stopped the both of you from delivering your blows that day, I was in control. He had ** ** _control_ ** ** over me. I was summoned but he had ** ** _control_****.**

The difference between the Demon and the twins’, Nero’s could feel fear. He was a lesser Demon Lord than the two who stood in front of him. He had a right to fear. But he had no want to fear the man who was three-quarters Human. **I am growing at a rate I hate to say… too ** ** _quickly_****. I believe it had to be that job, if not… then something is tampering with Nero’s blood.**

“For something to hit that hard,” Dante intervened, “do we have any other family we should fucking know about?” He then made it clear he was demanding for an answer; pissy-ass was getting pissed at his brother… just in case the older twin did have anything he had to share. There was a _ fucking _ good possibility because Vergil was _ that _sort of person.

Vergil made the tiniest of noises as he fiddled with the Yamato’s hilt; the pad of his thumb rubbing along the butt of the blade. “I do not have any knowledge of that, dear brother.” There was a pause—Dante was about to hit his own brother if the man turned out to be lying. Again. “Even if I did know—” Dante kept his fist inside his pocket. “—You would have figured it out the same time I did as you are… I hate to say it, _ smarter _ than you look… sometimes.”

He did not want Dante to start gloating at his twin’s words, so Nero’s DT spoke up with a tire neither Demonic twin would understand; their Demons were too full of energy and power. **Just keep an eye on him, you two. **With that, Nero’s Devil untriggered and Vergil had to catch his son before he could fall off the table; the poor boy was unconscious, probably had retreated into his mindscape. The boy hadn’t slept in how many nights—Vergil lost count after the fourth night the boy escaped the clutches of the night.

“Nero must’ve let his Demon take over _ completely_,” Dante said in Vergil’s stead, watching the boy become weightless. The man was amused. They’d only been in Hell for how long and Nero was already grasping the fact he had one ugly motherfucker.

Again did Vergil make little sound in agreement as he gathered the quarter-Demon in his arms. His eyes thrown in Dante’s direction, knowing he could very well hear his brother’s thoughts. Nero’s Demon was not that bad looking—though it was more human looking than theirs.

“Do you think the kid’s really changing?” The younger twin had to ask again, watching his brother, the introverted son of a bit—_Angel _ let Nero sag against his body. “It shouldn’t… right? Unless I’ve got balls up my ass for not knowing it _ can _ happen.”

The older twin shook his head, starting to head upstairs after lifting Nero up and into his arms, letting the mostly-Human boy rest in a bridal manner. “Whatever this is, it is tampering with his blood. Brother, surely you do not believe anything like that could happen to a _ Sparda_.” Vergil paused as he opened the door to Nero’s room, careful when he let his kid rest on the bed he was given. “I am grateful to say I retract my statement; you are an _ idiot_.”

Dante snorted, and that was his answer.

After what Nero’s DT had told them, it was no lie when they started watching over Nero with both eyes wide open. It started when Vergil refused to leave Nero’s room that day.

As the days passed by, the three started taking jobs together. The outcome was relentless when Nero wanted to take a job on his own—more times than Dante ordered his goddamned pizza in one day. Vergil’s son was stubborn for the first five jobs, but when he had a taste of Dante’s angry side, the youngest of the trio avoided that sight with an aggression. Or… so the twins thought. Nero definitely got that habit from Dante as he grew to love whenever his uncle got absolutely mad; the only reason he avoided it was that he almost lost his life—it was up to Vergil to save his son… for the _ nth _time.

But after that day, when they’d hit a dozen jobs…

Nero started to change.

He became more… unmerciful, often grinning like a mad man whenever he smelled blood… _ fear_.

The older Son of Sparda just came back… he wasn’t ready to see his son fall into a pit of Mania—

“Ver—_Dad_.”

Said male grunted in response, quickly catching his son’s inability to get himself accustomed to the fact Vergil was his damned _ Father_. The older twin was sitting at Dante’s desk, somewhere Nero wanted to be. Vergil caught Nero’s ways of escaping their sights by sitting at the desk when Dante could not. His son did not catch his change of schedule or the reason why he sat Dante’s desk was his own.

“What in the absolute _ shit _ is up with Dante?” That question further proves Vergil point; Nero did _ not _ think Vergil was up to ‘no good’ either. Vergil managed to flick his eyes upwards to watch Nero flail his arms around in clear distaste.

Vergil lowered his gaze and flipped a page of the book he received as a gift. “He is clearly extraverted.”

“No—I mean—” Nero sighed, rubbing at both temples to prove his point of being pissed. “He won’t let me take a job for _ myself_.” The son made the table his seat, unclasping his weapon from behind him; his thumb rubbing along the metal. He refused to look at his Father, but knowing the man was not looking at him, Nero cast his eyes over to the elder and watched. Stared, more like. “What did my Demon tell him—_you_?”

Then did Vergil’s eyes lift from a page to meet Nero’s.

“Don’t tell me,” Nero added with defeat as he looked away from the man who forcefully took the Yamato from him. Nero knew his Father would not say anything more than his famous ‘hn’, and officially ignore him for the next week or so.

The Son of Sparda closed the book and muttered, “the Demon is merely looking out for its body.” Vergil purposely ignored Nero’s surprised expression—clearly he was not expecting Vergil to speak. It took a hairline of force to keep his smirk under control as the chair underneath him was dragged backwards once he stood, tucking the book into his pocket. “It believes something is happening to you. Clearly, both Dante and I are in need to know _ exactly _ what it is targeting _ my _ son.” He backed out from behind the table, just when Dante came back from his job. The twins met eyes seconds before Vergil continued. “Out of all the Demons the world has to offer, it’s _ tremendously foolish _ of them to challenge _ me_.”

After that, Nero knew not to question further even if his curiosity was eating at his fucking skin. There was a certain cold shine in Vergil’s eye—like as if it was warning Nero to _ not _ask. Dante tapped his shoulder, presented a bright grin before he jumped all the way to the second floor where he started small talk with his brother. Nero watched, eyes narrowed. The young Sparda would not be telling the truth if he had to say that he did not want his Father to repeat what he said. He couldn’t care less of what is going on with him.

However, the look on his Father’s face was unreadable. Masked with pure intent to hide. Though Nero could find certain ticks in his jaw; the man was _ upset_. _ Disappointed_. Was his Father disappointed because Nero, himself, did not see that he was changing? It was most likely. Nero was nothing but an _ idiot_. A hot-headed idiot who desperately searches for a fight at every chance he could get.

In that cold bed, Nero was having such a rough time trying to sleep that night because of it. The blanket was ripped from his body and a growl was ripped from his larynx; his Father’s voice bouncing off all four corners of his head.

_ Dante and I are in need to know exactly what it is targeting _ my _ son. _

His feet made no sound when he climbed out of the bed and left his dedicated room; Dante’s snores could be heard from upstairs, but Nero’s Father’s whereabouts remained unknown for the time being. Instead of finding his Father, however, the Grandson of Sparda cleaned the main room because Dante was one nasty fucker who refused to clean up after himself. Nero did really wonder how Patty even survived all that time when she was just a mere child. Dante must've been a sight to see but made purely wretched with his ungodly habit. Just when Nero was about to throw Dante’s shit into the bin, he found his Father standing outside, by the doors. Nero cocked a brow, weirded out by the fact that his Father had been there out of all places.

He turned towards his Father to start a short conversation. “What are you doing out here, Old Man?” Asked he, tilting his head to the side with that same quizzical look on his face.

Vergil smirked, his eyes closed as he exhaled a short chuckle. “What are you doing up, Nero?”

_ Fucker_. Like Dante, Nero snorted at Vergil's behaviour and threw the garbage into the bin. “I couldn’t sleep.”

The elder had his hands tucked into his pockets but then he moved he folded his arms over his chest. His fluid movement caused a book to peek out of his pocket; the same book V had carrying around. “Unfortunately, I am not the type to read you a bedtime story.”

God.

There were times that Nero wanted to rip the head off of his Father’s shoulders. Nero made a fist, brought it up to his face and snarled menacingly. “That is not what I need, you _ piece _ of _ shit_.” He threw his fist back down in a rush, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Nero side-eyed his Father; the ghost of a pout hovering his lips. He wouldn’t let his Father see the pull his lips, though. “You should fucking to tell me the fuck why—”

_ You left me. _

That sentence was never going to be finished at the rate Nero was staring at his Father. Nero never did take the time to _ look _ at his Old Man, and boy… if Dante had shaved, maybe he would be as _ handsome _ as his Father was right then and there. Obviously he would; he was Vergil’s fucking twin. Not to mention, there wasn’t much light to begin with but Nero saw enough. Vergil was absolutely colder than Dante, his skin almost a silver hue with the heavy influence of Demonic energy. _ Fuck_, Vergil was his Father; the world was surely dying. His _ Father_—

Vergil’s eyes were such a beautiful soft Cerulean blue—

NO.

The temptation to kiss him—

_ NO. _

“Nero, you’re staring.”

It was not Nero’s Demon who was tempted, it was more like himself—

_ FUCK. _

“Sorry.”

Vergil was his Father—_remember that, Nero. _

“You were saying?”

Nero sighed again, rubbing at his nape. There was a light blush that settled on his cheeks; something Vergil would notice. “You should really fucking tell me why the fuck you left us.”

It was his Father’s turn to sigh, pushing himself off from the wall he leaned against. He _had _noticed the way in which pink littered across Nero’s cheeks. Demon, but also so very human. “That’s a story for another day,” said he, eyes landing on Nero’s own—the Son of Sparda noticed the brightened glint in his son’s eyes. So, the Demon _was_ right. Nero’s Demonic aura _was_ _increasing_; Vergil was nowhere near knowing what in the world was happening to his own flesh and blood. “Now sleep,” continued he, reaching forth to gently tap his son’s forehead; there was a ghost of a smile, then. His best smile was for another day. “We have a job in the morning.”

Nero opted to stay outside as his Father returned to the warmth of DMC; Nero saw Dante had woken up, and he decided to not go back inside… who knew? His Father and Uncle probably had something to talk about. So, the youngest of Sparda clutched at his chest the moment the doors were closed, just noticing his heart was hammering against his chest. Was… it was _ wrong_, wasn’t it? For him to… to have such emotions towards his Father? His Human side would think so, but his Demon… he had a voice, and he was saying that he _ liked _it. He liked the feeling Nero had towards his own blood. Maybe he should talk to Dante—

** _You’re a Demon, Nero. The Laws of Humanity should barely apply._ **

_ But he’s my Father. _

** _Hm._ **

Nero did not say a word to either elder when he went back inside; he acted as if he did so in respect. That, in itself, was already unsettling. His silence shook the atmosphere and dropped the very same air once he disappeared into his room. Sleep was not an option but he laid in bed anyway; who knew what dreams he would have. He started staring at the ceiling—as if it would do him any good. His brows were knotted the more he thought of his Father. Nero did not want to know what Sparda looked like even though he must’ve had a Human form. He was, indeed, curious about how his Grandmother looked like. 

Eva.

By then, Dante no longer had her image on his desk; most likely he stored the picture somewhere safe. Nero wouldn’t blame him. Dante loved his Mother so dearly, it clearly could hurt him. It was safe to say the same for Vergil. The man no longer had hate towards his family… or what Nero could tell with his _ Human _ senses. The air was less tense whenever they talked about their times before the incident. Vergil was mostly the same if not scarier; Dante was still a _ geriatic fucktard_. 

_ My Grandmother must’ve been beautiful. _

They said Trish was uncannily similar to her…

_ Yeah, she is beautiful. _

Nero laid on his side, facing his left where his sword remained. His heart was still hitting his sternum at every beat, a soft pink painting his cheeks as the image of his Father flashed. Nero did not miss that smile nor the gesture he received a few minutes ago. Was… was he behaving that way because he was changing? He wanted to say yes, but he had a crush on _ Dante _ the moment they met each other in Fortuna. Despite their familial relation, Nero just had to say that his crush on _ Vergil _ was not surprising. Nevertheless, Nero _ just _ got out of that tight space but _ no_. The bastard had to be such an _ idiot _ and Nero just had to have feelings for him once again.

_ What did you tell them? _ Nero questioned the beast within him. _ What the fuck is happening to me? _

  
** _Nothing important. _ ** There was uncertainty in his Demon’s voice—was he unsure of his decision? ** _Now rest. Lord Vergil said you have a job in the morning._ **


	2. CHAPTER TWO

  
  


Vergil knew something was wrong in DMC the moment he inhaled. The older twin left his room so very early in the morning, fixing his long coat when the whiff of lust waltz in the air. Dante was asleep on the couch—Vergil could see his overgrown body hanging off the couch when he leaned over the railing. Dante was a Demon when he was awake, but even more when he was asleep. When he was absolutely tired, the man could bring the entire DMC down with a single snore. When the eldest Sparda felt what seemed like the slow and steady heartbeat of a sleeping Nero, Vergil was sure his Son was still asleep in his room… 

Nero was never an early riser—

No.

He lied.

The door to Nero’s room slammed open, but it gave no surprise.

_ Oh… Sparda. _

His Spawn looked like he had seen better nights. His hair was tousled and dishevelled, his face more pink than pale, and his clothes were drenched in sweat. The sight made Vergil’s insides shake. Even Nero’s scent was making Vergil twitch. The pungent smell of _ sex _ hung in the air. The smell must’ve been so upsetting, Vergil heard his twin gasp to a wake (either that or he choked on a snore). The clobbering of his feet was the only sound they all heard, it stopped when Dante finally reached the top of the stairs and _ stared_.

“Oh, fuck me _ sideways_. Whatever you dreamed, kid, I want to know.”

The youngest flipped the bird with too much aggression, his vision swimming as barely noticing his Father flash-stepped to catch his pathetic body. Just how many times did he have to pass out? Or rather, how many times did he have to be on the verge of passing out? _ Or how many times must his Father come in and save his ass? _ Nero could _ smell _ his Father, and he was about to become _ addicted _if the man would just keep his distance. His Father’s scent was strong but sweet, and there was a hint of a flower Nero could not bother to say what it was (it was a soft Sakura). 

Dante hovered behind his brother before he had the might to speak. “Do you think—” 

“Yes, you insolent fool,” Vergil hissed then, using the Yamato to smack Dante across his knees. The younger twin growled, covering his knees and taking a step back as his action to protect himself. “We’re getting rid of this with a cold shower.”

His son _ writhed _ in his hold, groaning out incoherent sentences from the hall to his bathroom; clothes and all, he was tossed into the bath and rinsed with not what was cold, but _ freezing _ water. To Dante’s amusement, the boy _ moaned _ in that tub, grabbing at Vergil’s collar, causing that twin to almost be doused in that same ice water if it weren’t for his taut movements. “I am going to _ kill _ you one day, Vergil,” Nero snarled with a vengeance, the nasty glint of red running across his eyes. “And _ you_.” His eyes were on Dante. “_Fuck _ you for _ smelling _ like… like _ that _ !” With whatever strength he had, Nero grabbed at the shower curtain and pulled it across—apparently needing space from what Nero knew he _ needed. _

Nero tensed when he realised his Father and Uncle were not budging from their spot; he might as well be drunk off either their scents because his vision was fizzing. His body tensed again when he heard Dante speak. “His Demon is wild, and for him to _ smell _ like that… Vergil, what the fuck are we supposed to fucking do in this fucking situation?” The slap of hands against thighs rang in that small room; Dante was pacing around, Nero could hear each step.

Vergil’s snort was quiet. “Don’t you dare think about it—he’s _ mine_.”

_ Excuse— _

Nero was _ dying _ in the bathtub, and Dante was thinking of _ that _?!

** _You’re not dying._ **

_ Easy for you to say, you big… fat… ugly piece of Demon. _

** _I am _ ** **not** ** _ ugly._ **

_ Shut up! _ I _ am the one in this bathtub because of _ your _ fucking insolent ass! _

Did Nero miss what his Father said? Yes. His Demon laughed at that more than what Nero had got to say about his situation, returning to the depths with a deep bellow of a chuckle. He left Nero to ‘defend’ his dignity and pride; for fuck’s sake, Nero was getting _ so turned on _ that it _ hurt_. He had to pinch his nose to a close, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. Why did Dante smell like… like… fresher than he looked? God, he was feeling sick.

_ Really _sick. 

His insides were on fire.

The silver-haired boy was _ not _in the mood to fight.

He managed to get himself working albeit his movements were awkward. During the job, some low-level demons were flung over to him by both Dante and Vergil in hopes he would ignore the fiery heat directed to his dick. But it. Did. Not. _ Work_. Nero was getting more and more riled up by the fact he was so fucking aroused—his whole groin was so fucking itchy. (He had to scratch at it more times that he’d be pleased to say.) Imagine watching twins fight like they were absolute gods and unstoppable. Imagine watching twins, more specifically, Vergil and Dante running up to you because you were going to pass for the _ millionth _ time.

Oh.

Nero was passing out.

Digging his weapon into the ground, Nero’s vision shook as heat surrounded the very edges of his sight. He only felt Dante grabbing onto him and only heard Vergil urging him to stay awake. The Demon hoard was retreating except for one, Nero could only guess it was the ‘head’ of the ugly group of flying… monkeys? Nero, despite his current appearance, tried to smirk, to taunt it but his voice was stuck in his throat.

The Demon knew what was happening to Nero, and it just had to lick its lips.

Disgusting.

_ I see the brat is in heat… _

Heat? So like… an animal? Nero never felt so confused in his life, one could tell he was because of the eyebrow raise. Did that mean Dante and Vergil went through the same thing as he was? Ugh, Nero had no heart to imagine that. They were too _ not like him_. Dante kept him upright with a single arm looped around his middle whilst Vergil held Yamato with a grip that could sever a neck in three different places.

_ I never thought a Demon of his kind could… _

“Will you _ stop _ talking about my son?”

That son was _ grateful _ when Vergil wasted no time to killing that defiled creature. Nero swore he could count at least 25 slashes to the mere body in that one attack. One? Vergil barely moved his arm to kill that fucker. Oh no, Nero was falling into his Father’s trap. Oh, he fell into his trap a heck deeper when his Father entered his sight with his hand cupping Nero’s face. Vergil’s blue eyes were laced with a vengeful crimson but the colour disappeared the moment it appearance.

“That cold shower did not work.”

“Well, duh. Dumbass.” Would Dante just shut the fuck up for one second?

“Well, Dante. I suppose you have a better idea.”

“How am _ I _ supposed to have the better idea, Verge? I don’t _ have _ these things!”

“Neither do I, but I seem to have done _ a lot more _ than you have for Nero.”

“You’re his _ Dad _!”

“And you’re my _fucking_ Uncle—will one of you shut _fucking_ up and _fucking_ _kiss me _before I _fucking_ _explode_?”

‘One of you’ turned out to be his own Father.

Nero twitched in his hold, gasping for a breath he knew he could not fathom to grasp when he felt his teeth was grazed by a tongue too long to be human. The youngest barely felt Dante lifting him to a stand, his whole body weight given to Vergil—who failed the notice his own brother moved to watch from another angle. Nero’s eyes were wide, staring into the blue abyss of his Father’s too-blue pair. His mouth invaded with such ease by the tongue that he could taste _ blood _ on its tip, his own muscle danced with Dante’s doppelgänger’s. Heat ran from head to toe, his own hands finding sanctuary in Vergil’s silver locks; his digits grasped and tugged. The kiss ended all too soon when Vergil had no choice but to pull away, earning himself a heated moan. Nero whined—oh, god, he _ whined_—but stayed away. His dick was hurting so bad, it was throbbing in his tight pants.

“Thanks,” he wheezed in relief, letting Dante—the smug bastard was smirking—pull him into a stand once again.

His Father ‘hn’ed again, sheathing the Yamato after creating a portal for the three of them.

Ah, the DMC was _ quiet_.

In the room that was supposedly a storage room, then made Nero’s sanctuary, the quarter-Demon sought refuge in that bed.

Nero was kissed by his Father.

Oh, the bed was _ so _ soft.

** _Please stop trying to avoid the situation of which I have warned you about._ **

_ Shut up. _

The _ softness of the bed _ made Nero quite comfortable; it helped with the tightness of his clothes. Or… skin, since Nero stripped entirely the moment he got back into his room. Half of his face was buried in the pillow, and he was staring at his sword again. Nero was _ kissed by his Father_. You know the sound when you get a message from your crush, that high pitched squeal? Something like that left Nero’s chords but it was drowned by the pillow when he buried his whole face into it. The poor boy still did not know whether it was his Human or Demon side—to save himself from the lack of dignity and pride, he blamed the Demon.

** _Stop blaming me._ **

He blamed it on his Demon because he cannot recall if Humans could be in _ heat_. That was what the Demon called it. Not his, but that ugly son of a bitch. Neither Dante nor Vergil went through what he experienced… so… were they what were known as Alphas? Made sense. Sparda was terrifying… according to the stories he had been told. What’s to say that his own sons inherited that trait. But why did it have to be—

“Your thoughts are so fucking loud, kid.”

“Dante—I’m fucking _ naked _!” Nero spun around to lay on his back instantaneous to him covering his whole body with that thin sheet of blanket. He watched the Old Man chuckle, rubbing at his brow. “What the fuck do you fucking need?!”

The Uncle brushed his knuckle under his nose before leaping onto the bed and landing onto it with a loud poof; due to the massive impact, Nero nearly jumped a foot into the air if it weren’t for Dante’s hand upon his shin. “Milden your language, kid. Your dad’s getting bloody ears since the job.”

“Oh, I’m gonna rip you a new one—”

“Whatever for?” Dante questioned, laughing loudly as he turned to face Nero. “It isn’t my fault you have to go through this ‘heat’, am I right?” The older Sparda kept that smile on his face, cocking a brow whilst resting his chin on his palm when he propped his elbow onto his thigh. “Funny how you asked one of us to kiss you, though.”

How in the world was it funny when the only humans around to kiss were his own family? If he had to kiss any of those ugly ass potato-looking sons of a fiery pit, Nero would gladly cut his legs off, toss them down a mountain then proceed onto eating one arm, and then use his other limb to sever his head. He bashed Dante’s head in, grabbing the man by the hair—thank goodness he grew his hair out—to push and pull the elder around. “What the fuck do you _ mean _ !?” He growled through his teeth, ears perking as he heard Dante’s laughing at his actions. “You two were the only thing I would kiss! Everything else was _ disgusting _!”

** _Picky_**.

_ Shut up, you good for nothing! _

Dante tapped Nero’s shoulder in hopes that he would be released from the other’s hold. He was, and Dante moved to lay by Nero’s side, smiling as he caught Nero watching him. “What’s wrong if your uncle takes this side of the bed, huh?” When Nero turned away, Dante laughed loudly with his chin propped on his palm. “I trust you’ll be fine, kid. You did beat your Old Man at a fight.” The elder heard Nero snort loud and clear despite his back was facing Dante.

Nero had _ grown_. He added inches to his height and shoulders, looking more of a man than he was in Fortuna. He took after his Father; his stature. But his lean frame seemed more _ feminine _ than the twins, most likely a feature he inherited from his Mother. Dante was entertained—no wonder Vergil was so very awkward with his own son; it was possible he looked for too similar to his Mother like how Trish looked too similar to his own. Again did Dante chuckle, slipping off the bed when he heard the door opening.

It was Vergil.

“About time,” said he, the corner of his lips were lifted. He tucked his hands into his pockets yet he hovered by his brother’s side. “He’s pretty much traumatised,” Dante whispered from the corner of his mouth, leaning closer to Vergil. “You might’ve kissed him _ real _ good that time, brother.”

Throwing Dante out of the room pretty much placated the older twin; there was a nasty crack when body met floor as he closed the door behind him. Vergil managed to catch Nero shoving the bird out from underneath the covers, and yes, Vergil chuckled. T’was a small sound, not much louder than the creaking of the bed when he sat upon it. He hadn’t said a word for a minute, merely watching his son shift under the blanket. His silence was what broke his extraverted son—Nero ripped the blanket off and moved faster than a jet, grabbing Vergil by the collar and pulling the elder towards him. But Nero did not say anything to Vergil’s bewilderment. The boy merely glared at his Father prior to letting him go. He sighed once more, scratching his cheek with the fabric of the duvet. Talk about a _ duality_.

“Y’know, Dad.” Vergil heard his son murmur. “You could’ve just knocked me out instead of kissing me.”

Vergil cocked one brow. “And leave you all heated once you’ve woken up?” Vergil cocked another brow. “If a cold shower did not work one time, then the second time wouldn’t either.” He reached over to ruffle Nero’s hair, messing it up completely. “Did you finish the book?” The Father switched topics, in hopes his Son could be distracted.

His Son nodded, turning around to grab the book from the side table—good, he was distracted. Vergil hadn’t noticed the book was right there. “Yeah, I did.” The distraction may prove the wrong move to make. “Didn’t realise you were that sort of reader, though. It’s a… nice touch… I suppose.” His thumb rubbed the corner of the book, eyes staring at the single letter that adorned the cover.

_ V._

It was… weird to know that V was his Father’s human. He’d gotten along well with him—most likely because he was level-headed and human. He was weird but he appreciated his company. The sense of _ home _ was probably because he was human. In contrast, Urizen was a dick who had a lust for power and nothing else. Then again, both of them made his Father. It was _ entertaining _to know that his own flesh and blood were both entities; such different ambitions to make one single man. Nero’d like to know what either side of him would be like.

But maybe his human would be… difficult to handle.

His Demon was fine—more controlled.

And his human? He would probably plan world domination the second he was free.

“Vergil, I’ll only ask once.”

A hum.

“What did my Demon tell you?”

_ Please. Trust me. I’m old enough. _

“Something is changing you from the inside, Nero.” A pause; there was a flex in Vergil’s voice. He no longer was disappointed. But worried? To know what tone his own Father was using, it was becoming more and more indistinguishable. “Dante and I… we cannot say for certain what it is, but you are becoming more demon-like than your own Demon would like you to be.” Another pause. “It is why you had that _ incident _ today. Your body is unable to accept the sudden change.”

_ Is that why I’m able to hear you crystal clear? _

** _It is likely because of the imbalance, yes._ **

“There might be a connection to the last solo job you accepted, Nero. You need to tell us.”

“I—”

_ Ah, fuck. _

** _What is it?_ **

_ I don’t remember what the fuck happened. Do you? _

** _I hate to be the one who says this, but no. I regrettably don’t remember, either._ **


	3. CHAPTER THREE : PART ONE

“What if we split him apart?”

“Do you _ want _ me to kill you?” Vergil shot a look from above his teacup—a look that meant _ death_.

“Well, no. But you’ve been doing that since we were kids.”

“You’ve been doing that since we were kids,” he mocked, lowering his voice to match Dante’s _perfectly_. Untypical Vergil behaviour, but Dante loved it. “We are _not _stabbing my son.”

“You tore his arm.”

“Because he had the Yamato.”

“You _ tore _ his _ arm_.”

“Because _ he _ had _ the Yamato_.”

“Okay, how about we split him apart—”

“No.”

“—and then fight his Demon to show him who’s boss?”

“_No_.” Vergil made sure his tea was all gone before chucking the cup towards Dante who, of course, caught the small thing by its handle. “_If _ we do split him apart, it would be considerably difficult to combat his Demon,” said he, catching his cup when Dante tossed it over. “His Demon told us he was growing—what happens if he becomes a _ Lord_?”

Dante shrugged as if the news did not bother him. Nothing of the sort would _ ever _ bother Dante unless it had something to do with pizza or his favourite Strawberry Sundae. “You were _ and _ still _ are _ the King of the Underworld, which would make you a Demon Lord as well. I probably have the same power equivalent to one. We were fed with both Demon and Human blood when we were in the Qliphoth. I see no reason we would _ lose_.” Even if that twin was _ insufferable 99.8% of the time_, he was speaking some truth. The experience they had was near godly in comparison to what Nero had to offer. But they were aging like any other human, and they were _ tired _ despite their ego halting their honesty from slipping. Thus, Vergil was… _ concerned_. For either party, he was _ concerned_.

His eyes were started to cast towards the room just above them, Nero moved out of the small storage space in that one corner of the first floor when Vergil started cleaning up his Brother’s mess; they were both fanatics at keeping the building spotless, much to Dante’s enjoyment. Dante’s old room started to smell like Nero, his Demon claiming territory whilst the twins took the floor above. DMC was _ not _a place a low-level Demon would ever want to stumble upon. Setting aside the tea set, Vergil got up from where he sat. “We’ll think about it a little longer, Dante. But for now, my decision still stands firm.”

“Right.” A sneer was heard before seen.

The older twin sighed in defeat, pinching at the bridge of his nose. He knew very well what his brother was plotting. “You want a fight.”

“Right again.”

And a fight was what he gave.

DMC was a _ mess _the second Dante summoned his Devil sword.

Or, one should say it _ became _ worse when he summoned his weapon. Cleaned walls became bloody and covered with slash marks too big to be considered made by a human; the floor, replaced and mopped was tattered by blood and sweat, and more slash marks. A window was blown out by a force of one’s wing—or wings. Growls echoed the walls, fiery heat nearly melted the air around them. The furious clang of weapons erupted after each pounce, swing. Insane dodges and parries—whether it was the human or the Demon fighting, it was a fight of the _ Insane_. Oh, that had been not just an ordinary fight. Even the pair of twins would want to assert their dominance, correct?

Nero could very well _ smell _ what was going on. It was getting to the point that it was comfortable to smell? Boy, Nero was pissed his Family was fighting _ again _ , but he was glad to smell it? Fuck. He was _ messed _ up. Nero was like, all over again, a boy who is struggling with puberty. Instead of his usual side-lay, he was cutting his air supply by burying his face into the pillow; his front settled nicely on that bed. No matter what obstacle he had, he could still smell the sweat and blood of _ Sparda_. Then that dominant strand of stench invaded his room; his hands clenched the covers in a deadly hold, knuckles turning paler than white. His jaw was set, a nerve popping.

_ You’re getting slow, Vergil! _

_ Shut up, Dante! You’ve yet to land a blow on _ me_! _

The Son sniffed the air after lifting his face from the pillow. Vergil wasn’t lying. The iron he could smell belonged to one. Nero either felt glad that Vergil landed blows or disappointed because Dante hadn’t hit his own damned twin yet. To remain fair and unbiased, Nero opted he was relieved that he was _ not _fighting either of them. As much as he wanted a fight, he was in no position to lift his own weapon from where it stood.

Yes, he was in _ pain_. His whole abdomen was on fire, and his groin—oh, his _ groin_. Just the mere thought was uncomfortable. Sure, he was kissed but of course that wasn’t going to get rid of the _ heat_. What an uncomfortable word to say. Nero flipped onto his back, staring at the ceiling until his eyes started to cross. Maybe… he should go down there. Just in case the two became stupid mid-fight and decided it was best to decapitate each other. With a huff did Nero stand, rolling his shoulders and unbothered to gather his weapons.

“Judgement Cut!”

Oh.

_ Shit_.

Out of all weapons Nero encountered as a Devil Hunter, the Yamato _ hurt_. Even with his spectral arms, it cut through his shield. Like glass did it crack, under his Father’s wrath. Since when did his Old Man become _ angry _ ? Dante was nowhere to be found—he had to be somewhere behind him or thrown into a wall. There had been a crater, but Nero did not see his Uncle’s body. His eyes were locked onto his Father—was he out of his mind!? Using that technique in a place like DMC?! Was he _ trying _ to get _ everyone _killed? It became a battle of strength right then and there. Nero pushed, Vergil shoved. The weight was driving the younger blood into the floor; his jaw clenched—

If its power they were fighting with…

In a human sense, it would look like tattoos were being drawn into Nero’s DT. But the black curves snaking around his limbs were _ burning_. His vision turned red as the black dug into his skin. Power _ exploded _, a high-pitched screech. The twins knew Nero’s DT had beautiful eyes; yellow pupils with ebony irised, his skin was adorned with glowing blue lines on his abs and lower arms, red lines on his both sides of his mouth to his eyes. What was interesting was that Nero had long silver hair that encased his lean build. Blue spectral wing-like arms, and feather-like horns which curved towards his forehead completed his look.

But that was all _ gone_.

It was impossible for him to… to change but…

Nero had an SDT, and neither Vergil nor Dante _ liked _ it. Encased in _ black _ , all traces of a 3:1 Human-Demon hybrid were _ missing_. He kept the horns, but instead of it looking like feathers… they were _ sharp _ ; one slight touch could slice. His SDT _ had _ to be the same size the twins’ own if not bigger—deadlier. No one knew just how much Demonic energy he had nor how much Demonic blood was running in his arteries. Demonic voice was dragged deeper when he growled, the rumble settling at the bottom of his torso. Dante’s form breathed red, Vergil’s breathed blue. Nero’s SDT breathed a sharp yellow, matching the previous colour of his pupils.

There were traces of purple though hidden.

Just when Dante _ thought _ the fight was over, Nero shifted a foot inwards and _ pounced_. Instead of his spectral wings, they were replaced with two pairs of pure onyx wings—the jumped caused him to break sound and break into the open world—oh, the money that they needed for repairs was _ ungodly_.

Dante, too injured to shift into his Higher form still had no choice but to run after his twin and Nephew; he would be telling the truth if he wished to watch the fight. Nero may be cheating with his growing Demonic side, but no Demon could come close to Vergil except for his own twin.

Vergil was only half a demon, barely able to maintain his SDT form—he only had at most, three minutes. but Nero… Nero had a lot more than three minutes. Steam escaped his Son’s fanged mouth once Vergil and he hovered the air much further than the clouds were. The Yamato was shrieking at the form Nero had taken—it, too, did not believe Nero was… _ Nero_. But there was something the sword knew that Vergil did not. What was it?

The SDT form of what was his Son kept them both in the air by its claws burying into his shelled armour, pricking at the meat under the protection. The wings had beat once. It was not easy to speak with honesty, but Vergil knew that his own SDT had close to no potential to knock Nero back into his senses; he absolutely despised losing—he’d lost to Nero _ once_, and that was enough. It was a _ dream_. A senseless lie to even _ try_.

No.

His Son was in there.

The Yamato, driven from a heavy under-swing, managed to cut through Nero’s claws, its power fed by Vergil’s waning own. Failing to complete his Judgement Cut, Vergil took it upon himself to finish it. The glint in his eyes shone with a _ passion_. Using the power of his wings, he shoved his Son away, readied the Yamato and _ sliced_. The air shattered around them like how Vergil’s SDT form shattered as soon as it appeared. But as Vergil fell, he had not seen crimson.

The Son of Sparda saw _ ebony_.

Nero’s SDT was throwing a _ massive fit _ as spurts of noir erupted from that form. Was it the Yamato’s doing? Was it Nero trying to escape the clutches of a growing Demon? His blood was no longer _ red_—it seemed _ impossible _ Nero was able to fight a Demon. His own Demon, in that case. The thoughts he could hear leaking through Nero’s trigger was loud, immature… _ needing. Wanting. _The painful howl of so many emotions made Vergil’s ears bleed.

Even though the further Vergil was, the thoughts were screaming. The Father was _ dry _on power. He could barely open a portal for him to fall into—

Where did Nero go? He vanished.

_ Master— _

Was the boy planning another attack? He was gone.

_ Master! _

“Oy, did you lose hope on me already?”

Demonic voice turned human rattled the air, ebony turned red. Vergil had been surprised—the first time in _ forever_. No longer in that terrifying form, Nero had only his blue spectral wings. It was a false alarm. A warning. The Demon won its dominance; its only hints were the scents given off by both twins. Vergil realised the Demon was summoned to save its body—its host. Given that, the land was easy, Vergil rolling out of Nero’s hold and landing onto the pavement with a known grace. Dante, who had hovered around the outside, instantaneously moved to check upon his twin the moment the man dropped onto the ground.

He received a hit to the torso from the butt of a sheathed Yamato.

Either brother—Dante—was ready to fight but when Nero came landing with a nasty crack, it was not easy to say what Nero looked like. Nevertheless, it was safe to say he looked like he barely survived the battle. He was normal but the Judgement Cut was meant to be _ painful_. Nero cradled his right arm, it almost severed into two by the forearm and bleeding profusely. His eyes were still a horrid black, not all his Demon energy had subsided. His left leg was… was it working? It was bent out of shape—one bend at the thigh, and another at the shin. His hair no longer its beautiful silver was bathed in scarlet. 

“What the _ Hell_?” Dante hissed, ducking under his brother’s arm from tossing the limb over his shoulder. He lost all need to fight his brother. “You… you should _ not _ have that form, kid.” Not so much of an airhead; he, too, knew Nero could not accomplish any higher than his hybrid form.

The Father had his eyes locked onto the boy who stood in front of them—or rather, the eye he had. In Nero’s fury, he managed to get his fangs onto an eye and rip it out of its socket with a fiery need to feast. The arm not held by Dante was cut off _ entirely_. An act of revenge maybe? Vergil had cut off Nero’s arm for the Yamato—was the boy not really letting his Father live after that incident?

Nero merely shrugged, a naughty grin settling on his lips. “At least I won twice.”

Wait. Was—

“I won’t lose next time.”

Hold on—

“You said that before you went down to Hell.”

“We’ll fight more than twice.”

“Really?”

“I expect nothing less from my kin.”

Was… was Vergil _ really _ acting like he had not almost killed by Nero’s Demon?

Dante really needed to wake his brother up from this Hell. Or heaven—Dante was uncertain.

God, that was not the last they had seen _ that _Demon.

No matter what the circumstances were, Vergil and Dante had to see _that _Demon spawn. No matter if it had been the high-class demons or the low-class monkey—as called by Nero—demons, _that _heavy armour demon just had to be the form to end their job _every_ _single time_. It was not everyday they were able to _talk _to it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Verge.”

“Fortunately, I am not ‘pulling you leg’, Dante.”

“You have to be _ shitting _on my face.”

“That is _ disgusting_, little brother. I am _ not _ doing that.”

“But you’re going to talk to _ that_? What happens if it eats you!?”

“Then it would spit me out because Nero is in there—somewhere.”

You see… the monkeys came to ‘bring terror onto Earth’ sooner after Nero and Vergil (and Dante) had their little fight for dominance. Nero’s Demon needed to eat. And Vergil was an _ idiot_. Whatever got into his head, Dante _ hated _ it with an aggression. Who _ talks _to a Demon that almost kills them? For the high chance of a strawberry sundae at the end of the job, Dante had to remain calm—that was a lie, he almost gave his trousers a brown stain.

“Are you still the same Demon?”

** _What are you implying?_ **

“Your smell is different,” mentioned he, eyes shining a brilliant blue. “Your appearance is different. _ My son _ almost died by _ my _ hand because of your presence—_what are you_?” The Yamato gleamed a beautiful purple as it remained sheath; Vergil’s hand hot on its hilt.

The Demon, in control, stared down at Vergil—its eyes flickering between the twins.

Was it _ hesitating_?

“For Nero’s demon, you look an awful like the Old Man,” Dante said, scratching at his facial scruff. “Quite scary, too—especially when you ask me about your horns.” On either side of his head were his hands; his forefinger stretched on both hands to depict horns. “Except dad’s was more… out than in.”

There was a silence but Vergil broke it. “No one asked you about the horns, Dante.”

“I answered the damn question, Vergil.” A glare was sent towards the older twin.

The Demon broke out a smooth chuckle, humanly covering the sound with its fist. Well, at least Vergil could still hope his Son was somewhere in that massive armour-cladded Sin Devil. ** _If you were hoping for me to vanish, I cannot. I am here to stay. _ ** With a single snap of its fingers, the doors to the Underworld crumbled as if the Yamato had cut it down just before its collapse. Of course, Dante was the only one to react. ** _But I fear that is not why you asked who I am?_ **

“No,” said Vergil, that time unsheathing Yamato and its tip neared Nero’s—the Demon’s ebony eyes. “What do you want with my son—what do you want with his Demon?”

** _I do need power, Lord Vergil._ **

“How demonic of you, _ Father_.”

“_Excuse me_—_the who now_!?”


	4. CHAPTER THREE : PART TWO

“_Excuse me—the who now _!?”

Vergil blocked the ear that was closest to Dante with the hilt of the Yamato. Just for a split second, he had forgotten his beloved brother was _ loud _. He growled, its sound settling in his diaphragm while their apparent Father… who still looked like Nero’s SDT, rubbed his nape with a shaky laugh; he had forgotten Vergil was the… sharpest of the twins.

“The who? Father,” said he, side-eying Dante. “The why? I don’t know,” he continued, his eyes moving towards their _ Father _ . “Can you please remove yourself from my son before _ I _personally do it for you?” The Yamato was unsheathed but his Father moved to throw his arms in front of him, shaking his head. “What?”

** _I cannot leave Nero’s body,_ ** their Father said, ** _I would like to but I cannot_**.

The Yamato was shrieking.

** _I will explain later, for now the boy wants his body returned. I will come back, boys_**.

The Yamato stopped.

Nero was back in his human form and the boy was _ enraged _ . His own Demon had disappeared the moment his… supposedly Grandfather vanished. He no longer could hear his own Demon’s voice, and he barely even listened to his Human side. He felt so _ empty _. His Father figured it out; Nero immediately feeling a hand upon his head with his fingers buried in Nero’s hair. Nero lifted his eyes to find Dante digging an already dead Demon with his devil sword. Oh, his Uncle was getting pissed.

“Out of all the days in the fucking century, he comes back?” Dante twisted the sword, forcing the Demon to vanish into nothing. “He comes back and then disappears like he hadn’t appeared after so many years?”

Vergil hadn’t said anything, his eyes watching Nero as the boy remained silent. He let Dante throw a humongous tantrum, nearly decimating the buildings around them when Dante shifted to his SDT form. Having another Demon in his mindscape… it must’ve hurt more than Nero was letting Vergil on. There was a thin sheen of sweat beading on Nero’s forehead; Vergil wiped it away. There was a lump of air trapped in Nero’s throat; Vergil rubbed it away. Weight shifted and Nero had thrown himself into Vergil’s hold; his body was _ shaking _ . It must have _ hurt _. Vergil could only do so much, encasing Nero in his arms if not his wings. The Father knew his Son was not the best at showing any other emotion other than anger. He tightened his hold when Nero tightened his fist on his jacket’s sleeve.

It was tough.

The youngest of the Sparda never summoned his Demon after that mission. He retreated into the confinement of his room, barely allowing either twin to enter for _ anything _ . Nero had tried. He had tried to get his Demon back. Over and over again was he greeted by the wrong person—or Demon, for that matter. His Grandfather tried overwhelming him, but he was the damned Son of a Demon King. There was no way in _ Hell _ the Great Sparda could try. In every dream did he fight, in every moment did he fight. He was proving himself quote a challenge for the old Demon Sparda, and he _ loved _ it. No jobs were taken by Nero anymore, and to all of their surprise, neither Trish nor Lady took from their pay. Now that Nero was _ decommissioned _, it was up to Vergil to keep DMC clean. It was also up to Vergil to get his Son out of his room.

At first… it was difficult.

Nero would not dare to acknowledge Vergil’s presence, eyes shallow and near lifeless. Vergil did anything in his power but it proved unworthy when Nero shifted and basically kicked Vergil out of his room. That was just the first time. The next time was just as ugly except Nero took it upon himself to attack his Father. Dante, oh dear Dante, saw the mess Nero made and could only sigh at the sight. He loved his brother but for his own blood to put himself through it… the younger twin suggested to leave the brat alone for a while.

“But the last time I did that, he grew up Fatherless,” mumbled Vergil, grabbing a slice of pizza as he flexed the injured arm; the same arm that recently was cut off by Nero the first time they came across his SDT.

Obviously, Nero warmed up after a _long_ while.

Allowing Vergil to sleep in his room.

Nights consisted of waiting ‘til Nero fell asleep as the boy could not sleep for a few hours in the night; it was only fortunate Vergil needn’t much sleep to begin with. Nero automatically earned a few stories, and Vergil had a few up his sleeve. At that point, it was anything to chase the nightmares away. It seemed his Father was feeding Nero with dreams. Trying to break him from the inside. Vergil never failed to wrap his arms around Nero, Vergil enver failed to wrap one of Nero’s legs with his tail—something the boy was too embarrassed to say he liked the gesture. The Yamato by their side allowed Vergil to enter Nero’s—however it happened, Vergil never questioned. It was Sparda, alright. In his Human form. There had been moments where Vergil had to fight him but Nero managed to hold himself. Nero managed to chase away the Demon who now haunted him.

What was Sparda doing? He was a pacifist, not a… not a Demon who lusted for power—that was Vergil’s job. Vergil’s brows knotted when Nero’s look of peace was disturbed. Another nightmare? No, Vergil just fought Sparda in that dream sequence. Vergil attempted to move away btu was pulled back. Hot air escaped when Nero shakily exhaled, causing Vergil to shiver. Another heat, it seemed. Nero, with his jaw clenched, clutched onto Vergil’s bare arm with whatever might he had; his eyes remained closed but his eyes were dancing behind his lids. His lips were pulled back, revealing pearly white teeth and sharp canines. His nails were dug into Vergil’s forearm, deep enough to break the surface and dig into crimson.

With a sudden jolt, Nero fought himself to the surface and his eyes snapped open. He found his Father’s eyes—

“Nero, I’m here.”

Another nightmare. It was another nightmare. Its aftermath made Vergil _ believe _it was yet another heat. But no, not with the tears that grew abundant in Nero’s eyes. With his face pressed into the crook of Vergil’s chest, the boy was drowning in endless sobs. Then did Vergil hear the voices in his Son’s head. Most of them were relentless, most likely his Human voicing out the fact that he was no longer mostly Human. Then there was a menacing, dark voice—most likely Vergil’s Father. Vergil snarled, bringing Nero closer than he ever was.

“I’m here.”

It was still dark when Nero forced himself to move. He could tell it hadn’t been a while since he broke down. Clearly, he hadn’t slept. He laid in Vergil’s arms, finding security in all four limbs that were wrapped around his fragile build. He lifted his face from Vergil’s chest, cerulean eyes gleaming as he noticed his Father was awake, too. The urge to kiss the elder was _ electrifying_. But Nero shoved it away, like how he shoved himself away from his Father’s grasp; he kept a hand on Vergil’s wrist, making sure his Father wasn’t a mere image. He had a pulse. Nero was safe.

“Nero, speak to me.”

Said male choked on another sob when he found himself unable to speak. He didn’t hear what his Old Man said, too focused on the Grandfather who still stuck around. _ Please, not another fight _ , Nero would beg. It had been a month and Nero was already so mentally tired to fight the man—he did not have the power or energy as his Father had, not needing to sleep. But Nero grew up so humanly, he was… not accustomed. _ Please, don’t hurt my Father _.

** _I am not going to hurt my son nor do I want to hurt my grandson. If I did, Vergil would have already asked Dante to summon his witch to get rid of me. _ ** His Grandfather’s voice was less terrifying than it usually was. ** _I only did fight you again and again because I needed you to listen to me, my dear. I only have a small window._ **

Nero buried himself into his Father’s build again, trapped in his own thoughts; Vergil, to his fortune, knew his Son was preoccupied and let the boy do what he pleased.

** _I never did get myself killed. I was trapped. When Vergil had split himself into two and became V and Urizen, he stole your arm… correct? _ ** Silence met him, and the Grandfather took it as an agreement. ** _He managed to survive long enough, not because of the blade but because he spilled your blood. His own son’s blood. I attempted to return through Urizen but he was purely Demon. I attempted to return through Dante but he was half Demon—_ **

_ So, you used me? I was only a quarter Demonic. _

** _Correct—well, no. You’re not entirely correct. I sought my chance through you, and I would not have attempted if I knew you were weak. But you were not. Not in the slightest. However, you proved to be… too malleable. You were not supposed to be this Demonic. This is not my doing._ **

_ Then whose fault is it?! _

** _I wish I could tell you, my dear._ **

There was a silence that could shake the Earth. But Sparda knew his Grandson had something else to say, thus he remained. He remained to start thinking. He remained to believe his Grandson was _ perfection _. Born with Vergil’s blood, raised without the twins, found himself following in Dante’s footsteps after the incidents in Fortuna. Nero was a mess but he was finally removing the twines and knots. Sparda barely registered Nero’s question with all the admiration he was beginning to have for his Grandson.

_ Is the love for my Father changing because of you? _

Sparda was… confused. If he had been in his Demon form, one could still tell he was confused. Highly anticipating a much different question. But he _ felt _ Nero was… in desperate need of an answer, and so, Sparda had to give. ** _ A curious question, but this I can answer. It is not me, dear Nero. It is you._ **

A wild pack of air was driven out of Nero’s lungs when Nero _ finally _decided to come back into the world of the living; his Father remained where he was, his blue eyes matching Nero’s sight. Nero watched as his Father moved away but kept his hands bunched in Nero’s—the latter had no recollection when he reached out and took a hold of Vergil’s hands.

Not yet, Nero.

Not now. Not yet.

“What—”

“The old fucker just needed a chance to come back,” said male interjected, pressing himself against Vergil. Safe. He just needed to feel safe. _ Safesafesafesafesafe _—

“I see.” Vergil buried his hand into Nero’s hair, ruffling the tangles out. “I am not surprised he decided to show. You’ve grown considerably.” Vergil took a moment to pause, using the silence as his haven; his fingers danced along the length of Nero’s neck, the pads of his fingers pressing into Nero’s nape. “Though… something must be the matter?”

_ Oh, god. I need to do it. I need. I need—needneedneedneed! _

A fiery fight for dominance; Vergil was pressed into the mattress with lips pressed against his own. He barely had time to breathe when Nero flattened the air out of him. Nero slipped his tongue into his wet cavern, giving him no such thing as space or time. Under his vest did he feel Nero’s claws draw four red lines on either side of his torso simultaneous to his growls. Nero pulled away for a breath but his eyes told a different story, he dived down to bite but Vergil was persistent; his Son might have won the Demonic dominance but in that bedroom—

Vergil tossed Nero aside, shadowing the younger male with his sheer weight and bigger build. With his hands on either side of Nero’s head, it was he who dived in for a bite. Razor sharp teeth chomped and buried so far into skin, the pure white fabric beneath them took a swim in _ red _ . Nero convulsed, _ moaned _ out Vergil’s name as if it had been a taboo. To Vergil’s delight, Nero exposed his neck with one stretch, revealing more delicate, porcelain skin. The Demon in Vergil was _ alive _ , feasting upon the blood of his kin. Nails turned into claws and they _ scratched. _They tore through skin, bringing blood to the surface. A tongue lapped at the mess, causing the body underneath to shudder violently.

The smell of iron clouded all senses, burying the Demons under its pungent smell. Clothes were slightly askew if not completely ripped apart by the same claws that brought iron into the work. Sweat clung onto skin, saliva clung onto lips; their sanity was barely hanging on. Lustful eyes met—

“We cannot.”

Nero whined.

“For the sake of not being watched, unless you would want to be watched.”

Nero stopped whining; at least the boy had dignity to preserve.

“Of course—”

But the boy did not let his Father go. He gathered a fistful of Vergil’s vest and pulled the man towards him. They locked lips but more… _ lovingly _ that time. Their tongues matched and mapped. In a fit to gain breath, Nero pulled away that time with his cheeks painted by a beautiful tone of red. With his one brain cell, it took him a moment to realise it was his Father. Not Dante. With hair no longer styled and hanging over his eyes.

It had been a while since Vergil last heard Nero’s chuckle; he felt his Son’s fingers in his hair, pushing away the locks that fell and blocked his sight. Oh, _ oh _. Now did he realise. His Son. Nero. Such an exquisite spawn. A provocative beauty. Vergil watched as the corner of Nero’s lips quirked, forming a loose smirk. His eyes were no longer blue but gold; a magnificent colour for a magnificent boy. He leaned into Nero’s hold, his Demon was relieved at the soft touch. Nero’s hand was warm and Vergil nuzzled into the heat.

The younger took his spot above the man, straddling his waist and burying his nose into the crook of Vergil’s neck. Sniffing. Licking. Never did he attempt to bite. Not yet. The bite on Nero’s neck, Vergil noticed, had healed but the teeth marks remained. Scars? Would they remain there forever? Vergil let his pads of his fingers run over the marks, easily feeling the indents. It was to stay.

“Anyone told you that you smell too good?” He heard Nero’s question break the silence; the boy’s nose still pressed again a spot on his neck—just below his ear.

Vergil chuckled softly as he pushed his hair away from his eyes. There had been someone. If not two people before Nero. But he hadn’t replied the boy. That was a story for another time. If there was another time. Most likely the boy would forget what happened. Rarely had Vergil been that close to _ love_. The last time… no. That was another chapter for another day. He pressed his hand into Nero’s back when he felt Nero’s breathing levelled. The boy had finally fallen asleep.

** _Do not forget this._ **

V?

** _You love him. Do not forget this. He will need you to survive._ **


End file.
